


Waywardbound Beta

by AbnormallyPesky



Series: Waywardbound [1]
Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Action, Adventure, Agoraphobia, Alcoholism, Alien Culture, Angst, Anxiety, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Clowns, Conspiracy Theories, Cultists, Cults, Dead Parents, Depression, Derse, Doomed Timelines, Drama, Dream Bubbles, Dreamselves, Eating Disorders, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Familial Abuse, Frogs, Gore, Government Conspiracy Theories, Hemophobia, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internal Conflict, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Murder, Non-binaryphobia, Other, PTSD, Prospit, Religion, Religious sacrificing, Robots, Romance, Romantic Drama, So much death, Strife - Freeform, Suicide, Swearing, Toxic Relationships, Transphobia, Trauma, domestic abuse, external conflict, implied nsfw, quadrants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-01-20 20:25:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18532519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbnormallyPesky/pseuds/AbnormallyPesky
Summary: Some trolls and kids play Simate: a game they all receive in various ways. They soon come to realize that, despite their species differences, Simate plans for them to put those aside in order to win the game.





	1. Prologue

Many years ago, but not many, three figures raced through the dunes of a vast desert. The two moons of the planet illuminated the rusty mounds perfectly, as well as the mysterious figures that gave chase. At the front, a woman ran with a determination that burned almost as bright as the planet’s sun. Her black hair flew with the wind, her lilac eyes locked on the horizon. Behind her, two figures were in hot pursuit of her. She didn’t dare look back for fear that it would slow her down. This woman had an important place to be, and there was no way she would miss it.

Her legs and lungs begged for her to stop running. However, her mind said otherwise. It told her to keep running, no matter how much her lungs burned. Don’t stop, no matter how much her legs grew tense with pain. Forcing herself to speed up, she saw her destination. In the midst of the dunes of sand, a hole’s gaping maw looked up at the sky. She risked a look behind her to gauge how much time she had left. The pursuers were some distance away, which gave her plenty of time.

Dropping to her knees, she rested at the edge of the hole. It wasn’t wide, but it was definitely deep enough to have something buried within. As the moons shined down on the scene playing out, something glimmered from inside the pit. A chest rested at the bottom, a sturdy lock keeping its contents a secret. She peered down at it, and felt a weak smile tug at her chapped lips. As her pursuers grew ever closer, she lifted her hand just over the mouth of the pit. 

Closing her eyes, she focused on a memory from half a year ago. Her and her best friend, working in the dead of night to dig this hole. Hours upon hours of labor before it was complete. She remembered looking down into the pit with great pride and confidence. After all, what lay inside would be useful for their offspring. Some might even say that it would help to save their lives. However, when she and her friend sneaked a glance back to the sand, it was no longer there. The initial confusion quickly dissipated as The Rogue realized what it meant.

Squeezing her eyes as tightly, she focused as hard as she could on that pile of sand. Focusing intensely until, finally, she heard something land in the pit. Her lilac eyes opened to gaze upon her work. Her smile widened as she stared at the leveled sand. Just in time, too. She felt a burning hot sensation rush through her shoulder. Candy red blood stained each grain of sand, dripping between her fingers.

Had she not accomplished her task, she’d be mourning her own death. Another shot ripped through her, this time through the right side of her torso. If she had not said goodbye to the love of her life all those years ago, then she'd be mourning her relationships. The weapon bumped against the back of her head. Had she not lost everything and everyone she loved, then she would not be as accepting of her fate. Now she, The Rogue, someone who had the honor to travel alongside the magnificent Brawler, could die peacefully. 

She could die peacefully for she had faith in the generation to come. With a smile on her pale face, framed by her raven black locks, she finally spoke. “Go ahead. Pull the trigger.” Not a moment later, the beam ripped through her skull and her brain, killing her instantly. Her body, now limp and lifeless, slumped against the sands of the desert. Each grain beneath her was stained with her blood, her sacrifices, and her promises.

No funeral was held for her. No memorial. Nothing. Much like the chest that was buried beneath the surface, her body was lost to time. However, her story lived on in hushed whispers in the alien society. When someone would mention The Rogue and her valiant efforts and sacrifice, the question would always pop: who was the real alien? Her, or everyone else?


	2. Year 0 (Quarta)

Years in the future, with many more to come, a golden moon orbited a gold planet. On this moon, six dreamers laid. One of them was already awake, it appeared. Her dress flowed behind her as she flew through the sky, waving to the civilians of this alien species. Oh, how she loved to see how they're doing. With their silly jobs, outfits, and overall personalities. Not a night went by where she didn't take a good long while to fly around the moon.

She did this primarily out of curiosity. How are the locals, are the King and Queen doing well, what is the latest gossip, things of that nature? However, there was another reason she felt this need to fly a lap around this beautiful hunk of rock. Ever since she first awoke on this mysterious moon, she remembered the first time she gazed out her window. The towers, the architecture, and, of course, the people! The little white carapace men, women, and children. All living their lives as if a new alien had not just awoken upon their own moon.

When she would go down and speak with the various inhabitants, they did not seem the least bit surprised at her alien appearance. In fact, she remembered that many of them were happy to have a dreamer awake. From there, she discovered that she was not the only dreamer that belonged to this moon. She discovered that she was only one of six. One night, from her respiteblock, she could see in the distance a tower shaped similarly to hers.

Drawn by curiosity, she flew out of the window and through the starry sky of the moon. She believed that she heard many of the folks call this planet and moon "Prospit" and its people "Prospitians". What curious little creatures!, she remarked when learning about this. In that tower, she discovered an odd but joyous thing: another one of her kind, all curled up in their Recuperacoon. Why it appeared to be her dear friend: Quomna Gestal! Sleeping soundly, her golden dress shining through the green slime.

That was sweeps ago for these young girls and now is the future. Well, really, it's the present. Time is confusing for some, but not for this young lady. At least not yet. As mentioned earlier, she was back on the moon of Prospit, flying over the rooftops to check on the last dreamer. This one she always saved for last due to just how peculiar they were. The curious lady that had been leading this narrative was not part of the human species. Instead, she was part of an alien species in a distant galaxy. A species known as trolls.

The sixth and final dreamer was a contrast to the other five. Compared to the lady's pale gray skin, this dreamer had brown skin. Rather than sleeping in the soothing comfort of a Recuperacoon's sopor slime, they instead slept on an odd contraption. A rectangle with a white sheet over it, and a loose, fluffier sheet laid over the alien's body. Sometimes the lady would find that the alien had somehow gotten out of their bed, and collapsed at their window. She liked to think that they were eager to wake up and see the clouds. The floor was no place to sleep though, as the girl would say.

As expected, the strange dreamer was at their window sill. Arms folded with their head resting on them, snoozing their time away. Flying through the window, she lands behind them. "Come now." Arms hooked around their torso, she lifts them up as best she can. Those with her rank aren't known for being physically strong, after all. Dragging them back to their odd spot of resting, she huffed and panted after hoisting them up onto the soft, cushioned object. "You are such a troublemaker, little alien."

The alien curled into themselves as they slept, a peaceful expression on their dark skin. Tucking them in, the lady gave a quick, comforting pat on top of the alien's charcoal black hair. At least that was one thing the two of them had in common. A content smile slides across her black lips as she looked on at the sleeping alien. They looked so peaceful, but they're also missing so much with this wonderful place.

"Oh!" She trotted over to the window, the gold ribbon strips dragging behind her. "I almost missed it!" Propping her elbows up on the window sill, her golden yellow eyes looked out over golden rooftops. Many other Prospitians shambled to their homes and families to safely look upon the upcoming event. This event is one of the reasons she wished for the others to finally wake.

Her vision rose from the rooftops and up to the clouded, starry sky. She felt her giddiness grow with every passing moment, a toothy grin on her round, gray face. The bridge of her nose scrunched up in delight when the clouds gathered together, casting a shadow on the town. A few windows were shut, but other curious ones stayed in similar positions to the lady. Ever so subtly and faintly, images appeared within the clouds. Little movies for each individual to see. For these were visions not from only from the present, but from the past and future, too.

In one, she saw the figure of one of the fellow dreamers walking through an odd land. Oh, she thinks she saw that the dreamer has little helpers, too! In other, a friend was seen crying. Plum bruises cover this woman's arms. As entertaining as these clouds were, she was on the hunt for one specific cloud. One that would show her an important place she needed to be. 

The images floated by lazily as she searched for the desired one. One showed another odd alien fighting a robot in their rumpusblock. It looked as though they were prepared for such an attack. She was not surprised when she saw the image of her lusus, a large anteater, scratching at the doorknob leading to the lady's respiteblock. It appears she was running out of time, though, with this revelation. "Come on…" She whined, leaning forward with anticipation. "Come on, please, Skaia above! Show me where it is! It must be time for us to get assistance!"

Through the clouds, she gazed upon the blue shell of the planet Prospit orbited. A blue orb, with patterns and shapes that danced inside of the face of the shell. These clouds belonged to the great blue giant, and it used these clouds as a way to communicate with the girl and other dreamers. It did this to help give hints as to what to do. For this young lady, she knew exactly what she wanted to see, and so did Skaia.

Biting her black lip with blunt teeth, she continued nervously watching the clouds going by. She bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet. A cocktail of impatience and nervousness brewed within her. Finally, just as the moon began to drift away from the embrace of Skaia's clouds, she saw it. The cloud she had been anxiously searching for. Skaia had saved the most important one for last.

Two figures. One of her species, the other an alien. An alien much like the one sleeping behind her. The two sped up as they tirelessly dug a hole into the sand. Then, working together, they carried a large, locked chest into the deep hole. However, this cloud wasn't about the two friends. No. She's supposed to be focusing on the pile of sand. Which, as she watched with great curiosity, disappeared to a different time. It was still the past for her, but for this alien, it was their present and future.

The sand appeared right over the empty hole, almost as if out of thin air. It dropped, filling the hole completely to bury the chest. The image sped up just one more time. Their body rested atop the sand that hid their treasure, slowly decaying as time raced forward. Eventually, all that's left of the alien were their bleached white bones that stuck out from the sand. She took in as much of the surrounding area as she could while the image slowly faded back to white.

Just in time, too, for she could feel herself begin to stir awake. As she slipped back into reality, she kept the image of the bones inside her thinkpan. There. There is where their tickets to safety are. She just hoped she'd have enough time to get them to her friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A concerned anteater gently headbutted her charge's head, careful not to bump the fiery colored horns protruding from the sides of her head. The girl stirred and shifted in the soothing embrace of sopor slime and her recuperacoon. After a gentle pawing of her shoulder, the teenager opened her eyes to meet her lusus'. She smiled and rolled her golden eyes, reaching a hand out from the slime to pat her guardian's head. "Thank you for waking me, Ni," She said, exhaustion laced in her voice.

The large anteater nuzzled her hand carefully in thanks. Stepping away, she allowed the girl to hoist herself up and out of her recuperacoon. All she had on is a simple pair of shorts and a scarlet sports bra. Her hair was a mess, and the sopor slime wasted no time in clumping her black hair together. Her feet smacked against the wooden floor, the slime leaving a trail of footprints toward her closet.

As Ni "grabbed" a towel from the bathroom to clean the sopor slime, the young lady dressed in her typical clothing. She slipped on a simple, black long sleeve shirt with a scarlet symbol on the chest. Throwing on ruby sweatpants, she took a moment to ponder her adventure on Prospit. Then she remembered that she oh-so rudely had yet to reveal her name, or who she was in general. How rude. Well, what did she have to lose now? Why not finally introduce herself? She nodded with a kind smile, agreeing.

This young, ambitious girl's name was Quarta Hansan. Much like any other teen of 7.5 sweeps old, she had quite a few hobbies and interests. Even for someone as low as her. Two of her biggest interests at the moment were treasure hunting and spelunking whenever the chance showed itself. Nothing was better than hopping on the back of her lusus for a ride to the nearest treasure! The hunts would often fail, though, due to her only real surroundings being sand dunes on top of sand dunes. If only she could find some interesting ruins to explore.

She also had a love for jamming out on her sweet Sitar and posting her music on her ScreamStorm account: questioningHarmony, which was also her handle for all other social platforms. Although her music didn't get too much attention, she could always count on at least one grumpy grump troll she knew. No, she didn't mean troll as in someone mean on the internet (even if he did fit that description), but that was simply what her species was called.

Speaking of fellow trolls, she loved nothing more than sitting down after a long day and chatting with her online friends! Even if some of them were cranky and quirky, she still enjoyed speaking with them! Especially when they would tell her about how their day had been and what they accomplished. Although, sometimes it did get a bit awkward for her with what they tell her. Trolls and aliens alike sure were weird, huh?

As stated before, her name was Quarta Hansan. She was a young troll of 7.5 sweeps, and she was quite "low". What did this mean for her? Well, it had to do with the color of her blood and the sign on her chest. This meant her blood color was Scarlet, of course. With her species, trolls had varying blood colors. The warmer your blood color, the lower you were, while the colder ones were much higher. Luckily, though, this was no issue on this planet. Anyone who tried to harm "Lowbloods" would be thrown in prison or executed, while the lowblood victim and/or friends were culled.

As in, they were to be cuddled and cared for accordingly until they had fully recovered. This was reinforced by The Empress, a kind and loving Fuschiablood -- the rarest blood color of all. Do not fret, Quarta was in no danger with other trolls on this planet due to the symbol she bared. That's probably why she wore it with such pride as a lowblood should have. She struggled to even think of a world where trolls were executed solely based on their blood. How frightening! Let's move on for her sake.

Now that Quarta's introduction was over, let's get back to the story at hand. She was remembering her visit on Prospit, and what the clouds showed her. Trying to focus on the location of the bones, she remembered the surroundings. Sand dunes, yes. Plenty of those. Yet, something didn't feel quite right. Like something in that vision was more important than she realized. She was missing one small, small detail within that silly cloud. "Hm. Any ideas, Ni?" She asked, tying back her wavy black hair. From her full body mirror, she gazed at her lusus in the reflection. All she saw was the silly creature pushing around the soaking wet towel. She watched as her guardian somehow slipped it up her long snout, thus blinding herself.

With a roll of her eyes, she walked over and helped the distressed animal. She rolled on her back, pawing helplessly at the fabric. She even let out a few noises of distress as if the towel was attacking her. Quarta couldn't help but giggle at the silly animal. Grabbing the towel carefully, she looked at her guardian's long face. The two stuck their tongues out at each other -- a common practice between them. The she-troll giggled and showed off a bright smile.

Rolling up the towel, she tossed it into a nearby laundry bin. "What should we have for breakfast today, Ni?" She walked into the kitchen and opened the segmented fridge. Ni followed close behind, resting her head on the bottom shelf. Quarta gave her a quick pat on the head as she searched through the shelves. "Cluckbeast embryos?" She grabbed a carton of purple eggs with green speckles. Looking down at Ni, she watched as the anteater pushed a jar of pickled insects close enough to grab it clumsily with her front paws.

When breakfast was prepared and ready, she sat down at the table to enjoy the fried cluckbeast embryos. However, as she ate, she kept catching herself glancing at the clock. It was actually quite early in the morning. Well, early for her friends. After she found out about the treasure, she would often go to bed a bit earlier than them.

Then again, all of them lived in very different time zones, too. By this point, she had memorized when they were awake and when they would be sleeping. At first, she worried that the time zones would interfere with her plans and relationships, but it soon was revealed that all would work out. Well, she hoped so, at least.

Stabbing the last fried cluckbeast embryo, she turned on her phone's camera and began snapping pictures of herself with her breakfast. The final one was of her with Ni. She nuzzled the soft fur of her lusus gently, earning a pleasing sound from her guardian. Placing the plate in the squishy sink, she posted all her photos onto her Facetome account.

Social media was new to the trolls on Pastorsia. The Empress wanted to make it easy in all colonies of trolls to connect with each other. How kind she truly was! Only a couple dozen sweeps ago this new "platform" was introduced. Of course, these teenagers came long after it, but they were still there to witness its early stages.

On Facetome, a troll could have friends of various categories. There were platonic friends, the closest to human friendship. Hate friends, a category for trolls who hated each other platonically, but still wanted to catch up on each other's lives. And finally pity friends, the category in which you just felt sorry for the troll but not enough to actually be full platonic friends.

The app also had different reaction options to posts. You had the simple, friendly, platonic "Like" option. This was just to show that, hey, that is pretty good, my friend! Secondly was the "Pap" option. This was connected to the Pale Quadrant or Moiraillegiance. It's often used on ranting or saddening posts. Sadly a lot of Pages on Facetome would try to beg for Paps by spreading fake hemophobic posts. A similar one to "Pap" was the "Council" option. Once again, this often was used when two trolls would be spitting metaphorical venom at each other. This was in relation to the Ashen Quadrant, or Auspistice. When you get the notification that a troll had "Counseled" your post, you knew you were in trouble.

Thirdly, and one of the most important, was the "Hate" option. This was often used between hate friends or trolls who were arguing, but sometimes trolls that were in a hate relationship used it towards each other. This was linked to the Black Quadrant or Kismesissitude. Quarta had one specific "hate friend" that constantly Hated her posts. She just appreciated he took the time to look at her stuff. 

Finally, we had the "Love" option. This could be used platonically and romantically, but it was often used with Matesprits on Facetome. However, she did have one platonic friend who consistently Loved her posts, alongside with her Matesprit doing the same.

Now with Facetome thoroughly explained, let's get back to our little lowblood. In the midst of breaking down Facetome, she had begun another recording session of her newest song "Sol Time Red". She'd always been a sucker for sappy titles and songs. As she played, she felt her worries and troubles would slip away like water off a quackbeasts back. Although, she had never seen an actual quackbeast in person. Only silly pictures online that her friends sometimes sent her.

Her fingers glided and pulled the strings gracefully as she focused intently. Sand dunes. Sun. Warmth. Love. Red. Him...his freckles...his grumpy face...fluffy hair- "Oh gosh!" She winced as she hit the wrong note. She hated when this happened. With a sigh, she stopped the recording and placed it in her box of failed attempts. Her light gray cheeks were dusted scarlet as her thoughts lingered on her Matesprit. Oh, how she wished he dreamt on the same moon as her. Alas, much to her sadness, their time of meeting would have to wait.

See, Quarta was in a long distance Matespritship. It was a love that traveled across entire countries and oceans. Sometimes it felt like it traveled across time and space itself, as well. They met over Facetome via an old mutual platonic friend of theirs, and from there the two would Like each other's posts (even though he rarely posted nowadays), as well as having frequent calls with each other. It was only a sweep before the two had fully been waxing red for each other. A few months later, and they made their Matespritship official. Of course, there was a price to pay: Quarta knew that not everyone would be happy for her and her lover. 

This happened about 3.3 sweeps ago, and there hadn't been a dull moment in their Quadrant since. One of the main reasons Quarta was so invested in finding this treasure was so she could finally meet him. To know how his hair felt between her fingers, how his hands felt around hers. Take in the scent of his clothes despite them appearing dirty and unwashed. She had to meet him. She just had to- Oh! A message and notification!

Opening the Facetome app on her laptop, two notifications popped up on the screen. "OBSERVINGAVIATION LOVED YOUR POST" and "OBSERVINGAVIATION has begun trolling you". She smiled at the screen as her cheeks grew warmer. Clicking on the latter, a chatlog appeared on the screen. It's a simple message, but her bloodpusher still fluttered like a stunned squawkbeast. She wasted no time messaging him back.

[observingAviation began trolling questioningHarmony at 09:28]

OA: mOrnIng   
OA: Any lUck wIth yOUr "InfOrmAnt"  
QH: Hey hey! <3  
QH: If yoiu mean skaia when yoiu say "infoirmant"  
QH: Then yes! I had plenty oif luck! 

OA: thAts gOOd  
OA: sO yOU knOw whErE thE trEAsUrE Is

QH: Um...aboiut that…  
QH: I knoiw what toi loioik foir!  
QH: But noit exactly where it coiuld be ~(UmU;)~

OA: why dO yOU brAg abOUt hOw grEAt thAt bIg hUnk of rOck Is AgAIn

QH: Because oiur people are actually nice! ~(ÒmÓ)~  
QH: And we doint have creepy moinsters oiutside oiur doioirs!

OA: Eh yOU gEt UsEd tO thEIr wrIthIng mAssEs of Inky blAck tEntAclEs  
OA: And thE cOnstAnt hUshEd whIspErs thAt tIcklE OUr spOngEclOts

QH: Yeeeeeek! ~(>m<)~  
OA: Oh hUsh nOw  
OA: yOU knOw thAt thEy hAvE hElpEd Us jUst As mUch As yOur blUE rOck

QH: Its name is skaia thank yoiu very much!

OA: I knOw  
OA: I jUst lIkE mEssIng wIth yOU

QH: Hmph ~(U.U)~

OA: rEd fOr yOU yOU AdOrAblE AdvEntUrEr <3

QH: Red foir yoiu toioi! <3   
QH: Mwah! ~(^3^)~

OA: Aw mAn nOw yOU gOt slObbEry kIssEs On mE <3

QH: Loioik oiut! Next ill coiil yoiu up in my arms and smoither yoiu in moire!

OA: Oh thE trOllmAnIty  
OA: gUEss Ill jUst pErIsh

QH: Noioioioioioi doint die! 

OA: tOO lAtE  
OA: I hAvE AlrEAdy AscEndEd  
OA: I Am tAlkIng tO yOU frOm thE grAvE  
OA: hErE tO lEt yOU knOw whAt my InfOrmAnts tOld mE

QH: Oih goioid!  
QH: Please doi pass doiwn upoin me yoiur spectral wisdoim! 

OA: AlrIght sO hErEs whAt I cOUld gAthEr frOm thE bEAk fAcEd AsshOlEs  
OA: thEy sAId thAt thE trEAsUrE wE sEEk Is In A plAcE fAr AwAy fOr OnE  
OA: bUt clOsE tO anOthEr  
OA: thEn thEy jUst rEpEAtEd thE sAmE shIt OvEr And OvEr

QH: What did they say?

OA: dUnEs tO thE EAst  
OA: fOllOw thE nOrth  
OA: fInd thE plAcE whErE tImE stOOd stIll  
OA: whAtEvEr thE fUck thAt mEAns

QH: Oih! They must be talking aboiut my desert!  
QH: Skaia shoiwed me where the chest is but that was aboiut it. ~(^u^;)~  
QH: Soi i need toi head toi the eastern dunes  
QH: Then foilloiw the noirth...soimething!  
QH: That last oine might be tricky. Maybe it means the boines i saw?

OA: IvE gOt nO IdEA AlsO yOU sAw fUckIng bOnEs

QH: Yep! Skaia doiesnt mess aroiund! Hehe!

OA: gOg yOurE sO mOrbIdly chIll wIth dEAth  
OA: wEll Ill lEAvE yOU tO yOUr wEIrd dEAth fAngIrl shIt  
OA: AvI hAs bEEn scrEEchIng sIncE I wOkE Up sO I shOUld gO fEEd hIm  
OA: rEd fOr yOU <3 mwAh

QH: Red foir yoiu toioi! Mwah! <333 

[observingAviation ceased trolling questioningHarmony at 9:42]

With the chatlog saved and closed, Quarta sighed and smiled happily. However, despite the happiness, she felt after another conversation with her love, there was another feeling burrowed inside her. Anxiety. Vines grown throughout on the walls of her insides. "This is really happening, huh?" She thought out loud. "We're really leaving it all behind." She wasn't sure how to feel about this. Part of her knew that it was inevitable, but another was in disbelief at just how quickly the end times for her and her friends' normal lives were coming.

Questions and thoughts raced through her thinkpan. Questions of whos, whats, wheres, whens, whys, and hows all circulating and bouncing around against the walls of her skull. Her breathing had come to a halt and she stared into space. Too fast. Everything was going too fast. Life was going too fast. If she started doubting everything now, she knew that she would fall behind. She couldn't let that happen. Not now. Not ever.

Wiping her eyes, she breathed in deeply and steadily. "It'll be okay." She whispered to herself. "Everything will be okay in the end." A moment passed before her bubbly personality returned. She stood up and closed her laptop. With a quick tap, it disappeared into what was known as her Fetch Modus. Fetch Modi were all the rage due to how individualistic they can be. Quarta's Fetch Modus is the model of "Musical Modus".

This Modus is quite popular for music and song artists alike. The way the Musical Modus works is quite simple. Once an item has been placed into an inventory card, it will remain in that card quite snugly. The only way to get it out is to observe the musical note(s) on the back. This is the key to retrieving one's item: One must replicate that note either vocally or instrumentally. The more complex or large the item, the more notes will appear, and vice versa. Sometimes Quarta would even put in random objects to see what notes will appear. Nothing like a good challenge!, she would say.

She walked out of her recording room over to her respiteblock, putting her trusty shovel in one of the cards. Finally, she equipped her chosen weapon for her Strife Specibus: Needlekind. Although she wasn't much of a knitter, she didn't think her friend, vileVentriloquist, meant for these needles to be used as such. They had been sharpened to a painfully dangerous point. Crude, yes, but still quite effective in protecting herself against any rowdy fauna. Locating them to their respectful card in her Strife Specibus, she took one final look at herself in the mirror. She gave a nod and smile that showed off her confidence. A strong sense of will and determination bubbled in her when she hopped atop the back of her lusus and raced out the front door.


	3. Year 0 (Vulnic)

Now that Quarta's off doing important business, how about we go meet some of her neighbors? Well, actually, her only real neighbors just consisted of wild animals, the occasional plant, and the barren wasteland of the desert. Oh! How about we go investigate that vileVentriloquist figure? They must be interesting enough to give Quarta such dangerous needles! Yeah, let's go with them!

 

A long way away, but not too far, a structure stood tall and proud on a large rock. It would appear that this was the only land for these beams to cling to. Surrounding it, stretching in every direction for what seemed like forever, was the deep blue embrace of this planet's ocean. Its waves crashed and licked at the metal beams supporting the hive. The salty, cracked hands of the ocean desperately clawed at its structure, as if trying to grab the troll living inside. It didn't bother her, though. Instead, she loved nothing more than hearing the seductive whispers of the ocean as she prayed.

Speaking of which, it appeared that she was doing just that right now! Nothing like some early morning praying, right? How about we get a closer look at this "Prayerblock" as she would call it? Amongst the curved, darkened hallways of the lofty built hive, candles light up the dark purple walls. At the end of this hallway was a large, wooden door. A family crest had been carved into its face, along with a well-detailed depiction of the troll's Ancestor. 

A tall, intimidating figure carved into the wood, to show how she appeared in her lifetime. Sadly, she had died long ago at the hands of an unnamed assassin, alongside the love of her life. She would later be deemed worthy for the title of The Uniter, known across the land for preaching about unity, love, and peace. Even when she found herself a Quadrant slave to a ferocious seadweller, she would still write down her beliefs in a journal and even attempt to preach to her mistress. However, this never ended well.

Now, behind this door kneeled this troll's descendant. Fiery horns protruded from the top of her head, vaguely representing palm trees with the tips of them splitting off into two. Her dark gray hands were held together as she recited prayer after prayer, eyes closed in a peaceful focus. In front of her were an old book and a portrait. Looking down upon her lanky figure was the painted face of The Uniter. Surrounding her were walls of gothic designs - dark purple with lace, floral patterns, as well as...Oh dear. Oh, God. That's blood. Lots and lots of blood in all kinds of different colors. Dried and fresh alike, the blood of many unfortunate trolls covered the walls. Words and art show a story. A story that had long been forgotten. The story of this young lady's Mirthful Messiahs.

Finishing up her prayer, she released a quiet clicking from the back of her throat. "I give my thanks…" She whispered, her forehead touching the base of the altar. Not looking up at the portrait, she moved gracefully and swiftly. Each candle in the room was blown out till there was nothing but darkness. She held the book tightly, yet delicately, against her chest. Exiting her Prayerblock, she walked amongst the darkened walls of her hive. Her long braids swayed as she walked, brushing against her hips.

This troll stood tall and proud thanks to her blood color. In fact, she stood especially tall and proud due to her being a "purebred" troll. The blood that coursed through her veins was part of the 12 core blood colors that all present-day colors originated from. Purple was the name of the game, and she dominated it. Her face had been painted to show her faith in her religion, and she proudly wore her family sign on her prayer-cloak. It was purple, of course, to reveal her pureblood color to the world. Well, that was actually quite difficult due to her location. As a wriggler, she decided to have her hive built on this rock. Where was this rock? Simple! It was in the middle of the ocean!

Okay, not exactly in the middle, but there definitely wasn't any actual land nearby. In fact, this area held a nearby school. A school fit only for some of the highest blooded trolls. Trolls that were so high, they had grown strange mutations in their biology. These trolls were known as seadwelling trolls, or simply: Seadwellers. They were not as common as Land-dwelling trolls, but there was enough to keep their blood colors around. Well, all except for a blood color that was higher than Fuschia. They all died off due to just how rare their blood color was. No amount of protection and laws could stop their extinction. Instead, it just prolonged the inevitable.

Speaking of which, shouldn't we have already been introduced to this young lady by now? What's her deal? Why does she keep so many secrets? In due time, she would say. In due time, indeed, we would say. Oh, look at that. In the midst of our history lesson, she had gone off to be inside her Respiteblock. It wasn't long before she reemerged wearing more appropriate clothing. Well, as appropriate as she deemed it. A simple black long sleeve shirt with her family's sign, and a pair of maroon jeans. No shoes, though. She didn't believe that shoes were necessary.

Now, can we finally be introduced to this young lady? Please? Good! It appeared she agreed as she continued her travels through her hive. A tour and an introduction? Perfect. Let's start it off simple with names. Specifically her name. What is it? She stopped in her tracks, right in front of a large portrait. How lovely! The portrait even had a nameplate to identify who was in the painting. Someone named Vulnic Vinder. Who is in the portrait, then? Oh. Apparently, she was taking a moment to just admire her own portrait.

Continuing down the hall, she passed by many other portraits of her Ancestors from over the millions upon millions of years of Pastorsia's history. Purplebloods were known for honoring their Ancestors the most out of any of the blood colors, and Vulnic was a wonderful example of it. The portraits eventually ended, leaving her in yet another lonely stretch of hallway. Sometimes she wished she had never requested this hive to be built so big. However, she also could find solace in these quiet walls. At times, she swore she could even hear The Uniter screaming out her preachings throughout the twisted halls.

After one final turn, she entered the large foyer of her hive. Two large windows allowed moonlight to pour in, and for her to peer out at the world. As she walked towards the door, she felt as her feet sank into the mossy rug. Rather than try to keep a grooming schedule for an actual rug or carpet, she instead settled for an earthy rug that would naturally grow moss. Her friend and lusus liked it, so she was fine having to deal with some moisture. Speaking of her lusus, she should probably hurry up on getting breakfast.

Unlocking the multiple locks on her door, she slowly pushed the large, wooden door open. The stench of salt punched her in the nose and the crashing of waves and flying squawkbeasts stabbed her spongeclots. She glared up at the pesky flesh bags of feathers and let out a loud hiss, mixed in with a threatening clicking sound for good measure. Their squawks ceased and they looked down at the tall, slender figure of Vulnic. Teeth bared, she stared at them with glazed-over eyes. Eventually, they flew away, knowing it was no use to squabble over something so minuscule. She huffed and turned on her heel, heading towards an odd device near the edge of her mossy lawn ring.

The device resembled that of a mechanical crane, with a steel wire hung over the edge. A lever was connected to it, and the wire was strained by a heavyweight. Looking over the edge, she took a moment to admire the deadly scenery below. The waves crashed and slammed against the large rock, and jutting out of that rock were the stainless beams that held up her hive. A fall from this height would surely result in death. However, at times, she would catch herself standing on that ledge. Perhaps a toe or two were sticking out in the air, or her legs dangled over the gaping maw of the ocean. At those times, she would fantasize of suddenly sprouting wings and taking off into the starry night sky.

Of course, she knew that was impossible. A troll suddenly growing wings? What was this, a fairytale for wrigglers? Brushing off that ridiculous thought, she lazily walked over to the lever and gripped it tightly. Although it was not visible, she was actually extremely strong. As a young troll, however, this task was much harder. Cranking and turning the large lever, she felt as the weight of her meals began to creep up from the ocean's salty maw. Did she enjoy doing this? Not really. She would always much rather be inside, praying to her Mirthful Messiahs. Well, she had other interests, too. What exactly were they? Why doesn't she tell us?

As mentioned earlier, this young lady's name was Vulnic Vinder, and she was a purebred Purpleblood at the age of 7.5 sweeps. Due to her isolated surroundings, she did not really care for actually speaking with other trolls. Instead, she often prayed night and day, trying to find spiritual connections rather than physical. She loved nothing more than kneeling at the portrait of her Ancestor and giving thanks for The Uniter being able to donate her genetic material to the Mother Grub. Obviously, she had to show her thankfulness somehow. Having a friend who threw outrageous parties definitely helped quite a bit.

Using the blood of trolls who passed out at these parties just felt right. Useless filth, Vulnic would call them. Just simple Baabeasts waiting to be slaughtered by her hands. As shown earlier, she used their blood to paint the stories of her Messiahs, and Ancestors. Unfortunately, she was the only one who actually saw her work, and therefore she was the only one who knew their stories. Rarely, though, she would post pictures of her work on her Facetome and Instascram accounts: vileVentriloquist. They were mainly just for fellow Purplebloods, as well as any troll who liked the religious aesthetic.

She never really spoke with any other trolls, as mentioned earlier. This never seemed to bother her. However, others could see there was a primal urge for a connection. Well, that's not to say she didn't have any friends. Really, she just had one before that fateful night. In fact, she should be there any minute. How else was she supposed to get her paint supplies? Doing it herself? Please, she would say with a condescending chuckle. A purebred such as herself could easily have everything handed to her. No, it just wasn't for her. She chose to live this life, and she'd be damned not to take every blessing that came her way. It's what the Messiahs and her Ancestors would have wanted.

A loud clunk brook Vulnic out from her self absorbed thoughts, causing her to sluggishly look over at the source. Greeting her was the sight of over 100 lbs of seafood, all caught within the coils of a net. However, she noticed something else from the curve of the net stuffed with hulking masses of writhing creatures. A hand clung to the wire rope of the net, and a sandaled foot was hooked in a hole. She pressed a button and watched as the machine whirred to life. Slowly, almost painfully, it creaked and groaned as it moved so that the net was held over the mossy ground. As soon as the machine settled back down, the sound of moss being squished could be heard. A creature that managed to wriggle free, perhaps?

Vulnic watched with a lazy smile and gaze as the intruder walked out from their hiding spot. Peeking out from behind the writhing mass, a peculiar troll stared at Vulnic with a bright, toothy grin. Her hair was dripping wet as it clung to her round face. Much like a normal troll, two horns protruded from the top of her head. They appeared to be in the shape of large c's, the four tips ending with a sharp point. She appeared to be a normal troll, except for one feature. On the sides of her head, where her ears should have been, flared two fins.

She bounced out joyfully into full view, revealing her full stature. She stood tall and proud, wearing clothes that didn't leave much to the imagination. White shorts hugged the middle of her thighs, the legs of the shorts being slightly torn and shredded. She wore a type of crop top and tank top hybrid, the fabric being colored Fuschia. However, this wasn't her blood color, plainly shown by the peculiar spots on the sides of her torso. This troll easily stood at 6'5" at least, and she appeared to be quite athletic.

Finally, she spoke. "Hey, hey, hey! What's up, clown girl?" She shouted, her voice bubbling over with joy. She happily walked over to Vulnic, a bounce in her step. Staring down at her, Vulnic widened her smile and wiggled her fingers as she waved. 

Opening her arms, the troll gave Vulnic a questioning, playful look. With a nod, she enveloped Vulnic in a tight hug, which she gently, almost shyly returned with a small, throaty series of clicks. Once they had pulled away from each other, Vulnic smiled once more and pat her friend on the head.

"Not feeling up for talking today? Is it a thankful day?" She tilted her head, furrowing her eyebrows together. Her friend nodded. "All right, that's fine! Could I still talk about how I've been?"

Vulnic nodded before opening her mouth momentarily. She held up a finger, silencing her friend. Carefully, with calculated movements, she began to move her hands in odd motions. They danced together to form the words she wished to speak. Her friend watched closely, trying to dig up her memories of the lessons she took for this.

"How is your-er my...matespritship?" She looked up at Vulnic to see her nodding. "Oh! It's pretty good!" She smiled brightly, her sharp teeth glistening in the moonlight. When she looked more at her friend's expression, she saw that she could sense something was off. A small grimace eventually found a way onto her face. "Okay, well...we haven't actually spoken for a few days. I had a party, and I messaged him when Barthi and I were absolutely slammed on Faygo. By the way, thanks for hooking us up, you're the best!" Vulnic's shoulders bounced a bit from laughter. "Apparently he doesn't like it when I text him without my quirk, but like, I was slammed? I'm not mad at him! I'll probably message him at some point today! He's my matesprit, after all!"

Vulnic tried her best not to cut her friend's rambling off, but she knew that it was good for those to vent. Especially ones such as her friend here. Once she was finished talking about how quirky her matesprit was, Vulnic began to move her hands once more. She asked if the two of them shall sit down for some tea and fishcakes.

Shaking her head, she pouted a bit. "Nah, can't today. Classes today, and I should probably go text him asap!" She saw the pitying look her friend gave her, and it stopped her in her tracks. Opening her mouth to speak, she struggled to find any words. Instead, she just settled for "I'm fine, Vul. I promise." She smiled, but it was obvious to the clown that there was some force behind it.

Vulnic gave one more look, this time with a playful head tilt that made her braids sway. Her friend giggled, and she strode over to her friend. She took hold of her stiff braids and twirled them in her hands. A silent question was asked, and her friend nodded. With that, Vulnic leaned down, cupping her face and fins gently, and planted a gentle kiss upon her forehead. Fluffing her dampened hair, she saw her friend trot off to the ledge.

"See you, Vul! Feel free to text me!" She called out. Vulnic gave her a thumbs up before waving her off. One goodbye wave later, and her friend leaped off the edge. She watched as her friend plummeted towards the water, her impact left unseen and unheard by the crashing waves. Behind her, a muffled voice came from the net full of sea life. Lazily, she turned around to look at the net with a small tilt of her head. The wiring for the net writhed around with the movements of the distressed being inside.

A smile graced her black lips, and she began to walk over to the suspended device. Picking up a fish that had wriggled free of the net, she eventually found herself standing in front of the net. She placed the fish carefully between her teeth, not wanting to puncture its scaled body just yet, as she equipped one of her trusty hammers. Taking precise aim, she slammed the face of it into the collective bodies of the fish, and from the center heard a panicked yelp. As she readied her aim once more, she readjusted the fish in her toothy grip. Another strike, and another yelp.

When she leaned back to deal another blow, she stopped herself in mid-swing when an odd sight busted out from within the crushed mass of fish. A desperate gasp for air-filled the silence, and the stranger troll scrambled to free themselves of their fishy prison. Once they caught sight of Vulnic's intimidating yet alluring gaze, they froze for a moment. "Hey...hey! You! You gotta get me out of here!" He shouted, shifting through the flopping fishes to get to her side of the net. His gray fingers clung through the holes, and his golden eyes stared at her in fear. She didn't respond and instead continued to stare and smile at him, fish still between her teeth. "Come on! Just cut the net or some shit! Get me out of here, clown girl!"

Her hooded eyes widened at that final remark, and her smile became more lively. Scarfing down her writhing snack, she stared intently at his frightful eyes. He watched from his prison as her pupils began to flash and swirl from black to purple. His muscles stiffened for a moment, and his breath became caught in his throat. Watching her take aim with her hammer, he felt no fear or anger. He didn't even feel danger. Even as its large, blunt, bloodied face came flying towards him, he only felt one emotion when it cracked his ribcage: Acceptance.

Vulnic panted a bit and leaned against the crane machine, pressing a button. The machine whirred to life as the bottom of the net slowly opened, hundreds of crushed and suffocated fish falling out onto the mossy ground. From that same net, the same male troll from earlier fell out on top of the pile. Topaz colored blood covered his chin and chest, and although his ribs had been crushed, he was still alive. She walked over with calculated movements until she stood over his beaten and bloodied body.

He tried to move away from her, but they both knew that it was no use. She leaned forward, bending her knees a bit, and took hold of him tenderly. It was almost sickening at just how gentle she was being now with him. With a small grunt, she hoisted him up and over her shoulder, leaving him to dangle like a hunter with their freshly caught prey. Grabbing a few fish for the road, she began to make her way back to her hive. The troll watched as the outside world grew further and further away from his grasp. Weakly, and painfully, he reached out at the two moons of Pastorsia.

His hand slumped against her lower back, causing her to instinctively shush him with a bit of venom-laced within it. Going around a curved corner, she soon entered a very special room. She liked to call this room her "Baabeastblock". Trolls who turned away from the Mirthful Messiahs were mere Baabeasts who wandered away from the flock. Therefore, with all due respect to these poor souls, she helped lead them back to their rightful Gods. 

Gently, she laid down the Topazblooded troll onto a slab of rock. He groaned and writhed as much as he could, but it only caused him more pain. She put a hand on his forehead and shushed him quietly once more. A small clicking rose at the end of it, making him wince with discomfort. She disappeared from his limited view, making his blood pusher beat faster. It thudded against his shattered ribs as he heard the sound of something large being dragged against the cold, hard ground.

Topaz tears pricked his eyes, clouding his already limited vision. Through his tears, he saw her painted face appear once more. That lazy smile almost seemed to taunt him as he struggled to hold back his sobs. "I just wanted to go to the party, man." He said with a croaky voice. "I've got a lusus back home. He must be worried sick, you know? You know how lusii can get when their charges aren't around long enough!" He looked up at her with pleading eyes, hoping his words would break through to her.

Instead, all he got was another shush. She leaned forward, closing the space between their faces. Her black lips, cold and slimy from her fishy meals, placed a kiss upon his forehead. His chest heaved up and down, and his frame visibly trembled with fear. Steadying her grip, she lifted up a large sledgehammer over her head. His breathing grew louder and louder as he saw her looking down at him, her smile growing larger and larger. He opened his mouth to make noise, but it was quickly put to a stop. The sound of his skull being crushed beneath the weight of the sledgehammer filled the air. The metallic smell of thinkpan matter mixed with blood wafted up to her nostrils.

Lifting up the hammer revealed what was left of his head. A grotesque sight for most, but for Vulnic Vinder, it was a beautiful opportunity. Carefully, she teased the chunky topaz puddle with her littlest finger. Running it through the liquid in a quick streak, she applied the color to the four circles above each corner of her eyes. From there, she ran the rest of her fingers through the puddle and moved over to a nearby wall. As if she were tracing an already painted picture, she dragged her painted fingers across the stone wall.

Occasionally dipping her fingers back into the blood, she continued to paint and write. A chilling symphony of clicks, hisses, and hums echoed in the room as the noises crawled out between her lips. On the wall, an image was slowly being birthed from her thinkpan. An image of a horrific beast, with tendrils sprouting from every area of its body. A large eye and beak shot out from what could vaguely be described as its face, and its gaze always seemed to be fixed on the youthful troll.

Just as she finished up using the last of her paint, she added as many finishing touches as she could. Her tongue slipped itself between her black lips due to her level of focus, and her jagged teeth rested just on the surface skin of it. Stepping back to admire her most recent masterpiece, she smiled at both herself and her work. They'll love to see this once I rest. She thought proudly.

From a nearby block, her respiteblock, she heard the faint noise of a notification. More specifically, it was her Facetome notification sound. As she exited the block to move to the next, the sound continued to go off. Finally entering her respiteblock, she quickly plopped down onto one of the many large recuperabags in her respiteblock. The slime inside sloshed from her weight, and the fabric molded itself to fit her shape. Reaching over to her short table, she grabbed her Grubtop and brought it to her lap.

After a moment, it eventually stirred and whirred awake from its slumber just enough to show her the chat awaiting her attention. "OBSERVINGAVIATION has begun trolling you".

[observingAviation began trolling vileVentriloquist at 8:45]

OA: hEy  
OA: hEy clOwn fUck  
OA: HeY CLoWN FuCK QuiT PRoSTRaTiNG YouRSeLF To YouR aNCeSToRS aND FuCKinG aNSWeR MY GoDDaMN QueSTioNS BeCauSe WHaT THe FuCK WaS THaT

Oh, looks like it's the citrus boy. This should be a fun and joyous conversation. Unfortunately, it will have to be saved for later. Mainly to spare us from his childish tantrums, to be honest. Who could have guessed such strong language could come from such a lowblooded troll? Why, in fact, let's stay up here in the highblood range. It's quite cozy here, isn't it? Well, okay, how about going down by one rank and a few colors? Actually, how about a different place altogether?


	4. Year 0 (Lurmor)

Going a little bit to the west of Vulnic's hive, thousands of miles away on a distant continent, a large hive stood out amongst a field of large flowers. This hive was covered in the vines and roots of many of the local flora of this biome. Nearby hanged a large, azure-colored cocoon. No, not a cocoon. The more scientific term would have to be Chrysalis. Yes, a large, caterpillar lusus had spun itself into this Chrysalis sweeps ago. It would be any day until his hatching.

Just who did this lusus belong to? Who did it take care of? Well, the answer was quite simple. Inside the hive, a male troll lounged leisurely on a large sofa. A thin, silky white robe and ribbon coiled itself around his sturdy looking frame. It contrasted greatly against his dark gray skin. In his left hand, he held a now lukewarm glass of wine. Occasionally, he would swish it around its glass prison, yearning deeply to take a sip of its bitter nectar. His azure grubscars, two spots on both of his ribcage area, were revealed to the troll sat across from him. He made sure to flaunt his highblood status in all portraits of himself. Then again, he just wanted to flaunt everything about himself.

Lurmor Maltos was his name. A troll of only 7.7 sweeps old, and he was already a well-known figure in many worlds throughout Pastorsia. He was mainly known for his odd mutation of having four eyes rather than two. Many trolls who covered him in an article would inevitably ask him a question regarding his mutation. However, his biggest hit was his appearance in the famous Magazine: Rouge -- a Magazine franchise dedicated to interviewing trolls across the world about various topics. In this edition, it focused on the famed figure of The Rogue, a famously mysterious figure that has sparked controversy after controversy. Debates upon debates on whether this supposed alien was actually real. When asked for his opinion on her, his response was the most controversial compared to anyone else's.

"I believe that we sometimes focus too much on fantasy," He was quoted saying. "If you keep your head high up in the clouds long enough, you'll just become the first-ever troll air balloon." Finally, he ended it off by saying "We're all old enough to stop believing in this story made for grubs, so I would recommend we all collectively come together, admit that our Ancestors all had a mass hallucination, and forget about this "Rogue" figure forever. Maybe then we can actually move forward as a society." Many trolls were outraged to the point of sending him threats on multiple social media accounts. Oh, how many trolls tried to counsel those posts. It caused quite a good laugh for him.

He let out a small huff and grunt as he stretched his chest outward. A satisfying pop resounded in the room, and he let out a sigh. One pair of eyes looked down at the wine as he swished it around. The other pair stared at the painter in front of him. Despite the choice of lighting in the room, the sweat on her forehead was hard to miss. Dabbing her paintbrush into her glob of azure and gray paint, she looked up to see him staring at her, eyes meeting for a moment. With an audible gulp, she quickly stroked her tool across the canvas. "A-almost done, Mr. Maltos!" She said nervously, squirming a bit in her chair as she felt his gaze pierce through her.

Another sigh and he went back to staring off into space. A moment of silence before he spoke. "Have you ever had quadrant issues, Ms. Miyato?" He asked, still lazily swirling the wine in its glass out of boredom. The question caught her off guard, making her stop mid-stroke. She glanced at his vaguely clothed figure and saw him half looking at her and half looking off into the distance. "Have you?" His tone was almost demanding rather than curious.

She shrunk a bit in her seat. "Uh, well...I can't really say I have, M-Mr. Maltos." She tensed as the words slipped off her tongue. More silence fell in the room. "I have a moirail and an ashen crush, but I-I don't think those two are would want someone like me to be their A-Auspistice…" She paused for a moment, before adding one final remark. "I'm quite spineless, so…"

"Mm, quite." He hummed in agreement. "Well, continue on. I'm not paying you to tell me your quadrant life story." As though his words were a whip to her back, she immediately began to work on the piece of art once more. The final touches completed, and the portrait was done. Seeing the pride in her eyes, Lurmor tilted his head back and shot down the bitterly tart liquid. "May I see your work?" He pushed himself off the sofa and to his feet with a small sway. His bones cracked and popped as he stretched in his spot.

With a nod, she scooted over just enough for him to view the finished piece. "I tried to capture as much as I could!" Her voice and face were beaming with pride as she looked up at his slim figure. "I hope I did a good job, Mr. Maltos." A drop of nervousness landed on her words, and so he looked down at her small figure.

His clawed hand firmly planted itself onto her shoulder as he looked into her golden eyes. A fanged smile spread onto his cheeks. "It's beautiful, Miyato. A wonderful piece indeed." Helping her stand, he threw on an azure robe and watched as she started to clean up her supplies. "Oh, please. Leave them here. I'll just mail them back to you along with your money." She stopped in the midst of her clean up to look at him with large eyes.

"Oh, you're going to pay me? I...thank you!" She flashed a large smile at him, showing her slightly pointed teeth. He offered a small smile back and moved over to help usher her out of his large hive. "Again, thank you so much, Mr. Maltos! It was an honor to paint a figure such as yourself!" His hand uprooted itself from her shoulder and made its way down to her lower back.

"No, it was an honor to have someone such as yourself paint me." His voice was low and smooth, almost alluring to Miyato. "I might even call you up again to paint me another piece." He looked down to see her eyes sparkled with disbelief and awe. "Now, I believe you should get going. Tell your moirail I said congrats on the lovely Quadmate." His two left eyes closed in a flirtatious wink, making her gray face turn a tinge of cerulean. Happily trotting off into the field, she waved goodbye to Lurmor's fading figure.

As he stood in his doorway, he watched as she went further into dangerous territory. Leaning his head against the wooden frame, careful not to bump his portrait-shaped horns against it, he watched as a Snapping Lilly writhed to life. Its petals silently opened to take in the moonlight of Pastorsia. Before anyone could make a noise, it snapped its floral jaws around Miyato like a predator to its prey. A toothy grin spread across his black lips as he watched the large flower settle back into its dormant stance.

Turning around, he pressed himself against the door as it closed him off from the rest of the world. "I am sure that one will make for some good pollen." He said to himself with a small chuckle. "So is the way of life." He pushed himself away from the oaken door and began to make his way through the elaborate foyer of his hive. Two spiral staircases stood tall in the left and right sides of the room. In between the staircases, a doorway leads into the biggest block of the hive. Walking into it, a large, lilac-colored kitchen greeted Lurmor's presence.

In the center stood a large island, and on one wall was a bar for him to make drinks at. After playing a quick game of memory to fetch his phone, he began to mindlessly scroll through his various social media platforms. Grabbing a wine bottle from the fridge, he popped the cork off with his claw. He carelessly began to pour himself another glass of wine, paying no mind to it as he left multiple Hate reactions to his Hate Friends posts.

One of the posts was a selfie from his most annoying Hate Friend, Quarta. "Ugh, another selfie of her taints my wall." He grumbled, immediately gliding his finger up to the Spade. Another troll had already left a react, and it was a Love one. Seeing who it was, his second eyes rolled at the name. "You'd think that the troll who lives in a desert would be thirstier than this dolt." Continuing to scroll, he eventually came upon an article written by a familiar and prominent figure in this part of Pastorsia.

"How Our Government is Secretly Enabling Hemophobia & What You Can Do to Stop It" The title read. Tapping on the link, the bridge of his nose wrinkled and the tip of his tongue stuck out between his pointed fangs. "Dimuza Loumna is a reliable reporter and writer for The Wayward Times. Known for their hard work and honesty, they are a-"

"Yaaaaawn!" He tilted his head back and let out a guttural growl. "Talk about fucking identity insecurities." Immediately he left the article, and once again left another Hate react in his wake. Sitting down on a barstool, he put his phone down and looked down at his drink. The dark blue liquid swirled and sloshed, shining beautifully in the dim light of the kitchen. Tilting his head back, he brought the rim of the glass to his black lips and felt as its burning contents flooded his mouth and throat.

The glass clinked when he placed it back on the table, and he coughed a bit as he leaned forward. A sigh, that reeked of fermented berries, slipped by his fangs and lips as he sat there. Pouring himself another glass, and putting the bottle into his Memory Fetch Modus, he stood up from the stool and began to stroll further into the hive. His deep, smooth voice was pressed down into a melodious hum as he made his way through the large, empty halls. Paintings of himself throughout the years was all the only decor he had, but he didn't mind. If anything, he loved it, almost as much as he loved himself.

Soon, a sliding glass door greeted him, and behind it was a room perfectly made of glass. He looked out through the glass to the tall foliage that stalked him from outside. Snapper Lillies, Petal Dragons, and Venomous Vines alike stared down at his small figure. Past them, however, the two moons of Pastorsia shined brightly down on him and only him. These plants may have looked down upon him, but that was only because they knew he would one day take his place on a throne higher than them. He knew this because the clouds of Skaia had yet to lie to him.

After a moment of thought, he pulled out his phone and pointed the camera at himself. Winking with his two right eyes, he began to take multiple photos of himself at rapid-fire speed. Once finished, he quickly posted the photos onto all of his accounts. Of course, he made sure to caption all of them with "Your King is here to grace you with his presence.". Not long after posting it, a couple of dozen trolls across each platform reacted in their own ways. His nose wrinkled once again when he saw Quarta had Love reacted to it. Then, another notification popped up.   
"knucklePolisher wants to Love your post, but you appear to have her blocked. Unblock?"

He pursed his lips together before puckering them in thought. A small groan bubbled in his throat before he hit yes. As soon as it finished loading, his phone vibrated and buzzed rapidly in his hand, startling him greatly.

[knucklePolisher began trolling lusciousMutant at 9:00]

KP: HEY BABE!  
KP: BABE ARE YOU THERE?  
KP: PLEACE ANCWER I MICC YOU  
KP: ILL DO ANYTHING PLEACE JUCT TALK TO ME  
KP: ILL CTART APOLOGIZING  
KP: ILL DO IT  
KP: IM CORRY FOR MECCAGING YOU QUIRCLECC  
KP: IM TYPING WITH MY QUIRC NOW!! CEE?  
KP: BABY PLEACE THIC IC THE LONGECT YOUVE IGNORED ME  
KP: AND BLOCCED ME  
KP: BABY PLEACE I CANT CTAY OUT OF CLACC FOR TOO LONG  
KP: CO PLEACE ANCWER ME

LM: My God.  
LM: Do you ever know when to shut up?  
LM: Rhetoric4l question. Don't bother 4nswering.  
LM: I'll le4ve you unblocked if you promise me one thing.

KP: OMG THERE YOU ARE!! <3333  
KP: ILL DO ANYTHING! JUCT PLEACE DONT BE MAD AT ME ANYMORE  
KP: I ALWAYC GET REALLY CAD WHEN YOU DO THAT  
KP: BECAUCE I LOVE YOU CO MUCH

LM: 4re you willing to beh4ve 4nd 4ct your blood color?

KP: YEAH CURE AC LONG AC YOU TALC TO ME!

LM: Good girl.  
LM: You need to st4rt 4cting like 4 r4re blooded troll.  
LM: Not some filthy commonblood.

KP: IM CORRY  
KP: NACHAE IC JUCT REALLY FUN TO BE AROUND  
KP: AND THEN WE CORT OF CTART VIBING  
KP: NEXT THING YOU KNOW  
KP: IM CTUFFED IN A LOCCER IN NOTHING BUT A BICINI TOP AND UNDERWEAR

LM: 4nd you will stop those a4trocious 4ctivities st4rting now.  
LM: Less you wish for me to block you for weeks.

KP: NO NO NO PLEACE DONT!!  
KP: EVEN IF YOU CAN BE GRUMPY I CTILL ENJOY TALCING TO YOU  
KP: <333  
KP: ITC WHAT MAKEC YOU CO ADORABLE AND QUIRCY!

LM: I 4m not 4dor4ble nor "quirky".  
LM: I just know the f4cts 4nd the f4cts st4te you need to 4ct 4s your blood color.  
LM: The Mother Grub nor your 4ncestors blessed you with such r4re blood just for it to be t4inted by impure liquids such 4s  
LM: Ugh…  
LM: F4ygo.

KP: I CNOW AND I PROMICE TO GET BETTER AT IT!  
KP: FROM NOW ON ILL BE MEAN AND CRUEL!  
KP: ALL LOWBLOODC CUCC BLUUUUH  
KP: LMAO THATC ACTUALLY PRETTY FUNNY TO CAY

LM: It's not funny.  
LM: It's true.  
LM: Even I 4m bene4th you, 4nd I embr4ce it gre4tly.  
LM: If you were to smite me down I'd t4ke wh4tever blow you'd de4l with 4 smile.  
LM: Th4t should honestly be how this world works.

KP: BABE I COULD *NEVER* LAY A HAND ON YOU!!  
KP: AT LEACT IN THAT FACHION LMAO WINC WINC

LM: Mmm. Ch4rming.

KP: THANC YOU FOR UNBLOCCING ME!! <333  
KP: THE HALLWAY DRONE IC PATROLLING CO I CHOULD GO THO  
KP: RED FOR YOOOOOUUUUUUU YOU GROCC LANDDWELLER LMAO  
KP: <33333

LM: Th4t's more like it, my r4re blooded Qu4dm4te.  
LM: 4nd stop e4ting your schoolwork, 4s f4lse 4s its contents m4y be.  
LM: F4rewell.

[knucklePolisher ceased trolling lusciousMutant at 9:23]

Closing the chat window, he went to go put his phone into his jeans pocket. However, all he got was air and quickly remembered that all he had on was a short robe. "Oh, as much as I'd hate to hide my beauty to the world, I should probably put on some normal clothes." With his items in their Fetch Modus cards, he took a moment to stretch out his back which caused a symphony of cracks and pops to play into the air of the room. Turning on his heel, he made his way out of the room and towards his Respiteblock.

He made his way up the spiral staircase that stood to his right, which leads to the left-wing of his hive. More portraits hanged from the wall. Some showed himself, some of his lusus pre-chrysalis, and others with the two of them together. The earliest portrait done of him was showing him as a grub, resting on a pillow with jewelry around him. At the end of a grand, three-way forked hallway, a large wooden door came into view as he approached it. Above the door, an intimidating figure stared down at the troll from their portrait.

Their azure eyes glared at all who came to this door. Framing their face were two, long, portrait-esque horns, similar to Lurmor's but much, much bigger. The portrait contained the face of his Ancestor, The Motivator - known for his speeches and stories that would motivate those around him to be their better selves - to love than hate. Some say that even any trouble began to brew in his presence, he would put a quick stop to it without even raising a claw. Lurmor despised him, and so kept his portraits up as a reminder to never end up as a pathetic, pandering coward such as The Motivator.

Sneering as he walked under the portrait, he pushed open the door which leads to a very, very large Respiteblock. Hanging from the dome ceiling was his rather large Recuperacoon, which obviously resembled an actual cocoon. On the left side of the room, a large, flat screen TV had burrowed itself into the wall. The webcam eye atop the screen stared down at the quadrant printed rug and couch in front of it. In the far corner stood a large, walk-in closet. Inside there were a few different clothes, but overall they were the same. A black long sleeve shirt with his sign, an azure colored button-up vest, and a pair of black dress pants.

As he gets dressed, let's look at the rest of his block. Behind the Recuperacoon was a pool table, the cue sticks hanged on the wall and the balls neatly organized on the green felt tabletop. Just to the right of it was his computer plus secondary, smaller computer, where every highmuttblood teenage troll could fulfill his basic needs. Framed and hung on the wall behind the desk was a signed picture from his matesprit. Then there was the door to his bathroom, where his large jacuzzi-tub could be seen from the doorway.

Across the back wall of his room was a series of large windows that looked out over the overgrown field of nature. Various shades of green and blue all sparkled in the dim light of night. He exited the closet, fully dressed in his daily clothes, and made his way over to one of the windows. Past the brush of plant life - there he saw it - the azure cocoon of his lusus that glistened in the moonlights of Pastorsia. It had been around 4 or 5 sweeps now that his lusus has been stuck in that prison. He had been stuck in there, waiting and developing his new form much like his charge was. As he stared out the window, he looked up just in time to see a large, long, and slithering body flew through the sky.

"His time should be coming soon." Lurmor quietly said to himself. As he stared out the window, he looked up just in time to see a large, long, and slithering body flew through the sky. Before leaving his room, he made sure to take a good look at the Chrysalis one more time. "Until then," He turned on his heel and left his block once more, and down the spiral staircase. Back in the foyer, he soon ascended the other staircase and began to snake his way through the corridors. "I'll have to find a way to pass the time myself." As he rounded a corner, yet another extravagant wooden door greeted his four-eyed sight.

Hanged above the door was another portrait, but this time it was of himself in an odd outfit. Aside from his skin and head, everything around him was a varying shade of gold. No, it was not him flexing his wealth and societal status. Instead, it was to show what life was like for his other half that lived on Prospit. It was actually painted on Prospit but was merely an attempt to recreate. However, as he pushed open the door to reveal another large room, larger than his Respiteblock, he was blinded for a moment by the sheer brightness of the golden room. A fool might even say that this room belonged to the great golden moon itself.

Bookshelves that touched the 10-foot tall ceiling, a telescope that was aimed out towards the eastern skies, and a desk, where many journals were piled around it, rested in the center of it all. He mindlessly ran his hand down the spines of the books, all written in old-timey Pastorsia language. All of which were written by his Ancestors and left for him to learn from. Gracefully resting upon the cushioned desk chair, he leaned back as he admired his last recollection of his visit on Prospit's moon. The people he saw, the visions he witnessed, how everyone around him was oblivious to his presence.

As he flipped open a new page, he readied his pen with a fresh dabbing of ink. Carefully, precisely, and beautifully he began to write what Prospit had shown him just last night.

1/58/23

Yet 4nother bountiful night I spent on Prospit's moon. Despite me f4lling 4sleep in my m4tesprit's dre4mblock, I still m4n4ged to 4w4ken b4ck in my own Recuper4coon, unh4rmed. Wh4t c4uses this is still unknown. Perh4ps 4 gu4rdi4n? Or is it Sk4i4 itself th4t b4nishes me b4ck to the confines of sopor slimes comforting 4nd w4rm embr4ce? I hope to find out somed4y before my time on Prospit is up. Oh, but the wonderful things I s4w l4st night. How it sends Honkbe4stbumps 4cross my skin. I s4w my future, 4s well 4s others. My lusus will fin4lly h4tch from his prison to reve4l himself to the world. Unfortun4tely, it 4ppe4rs th4t this time spent w4iting will not p4y off, 4s he will soon perish so th4t I m4y use his body 4s 4 stepping pl4te4u. I 4lso witnessed yet 4nother glorious vision of myself, but I will not spoil it now. Sk4i4 entrusted me with it, 4nd some things 4re best left 4s surprises for those 4round me. Oh, how I do worry about my lovely m4tesprit, however. I fe4r th4t with wh4t Sk4i4 showed me th4t she is slipping from my gr4sp. I c4n only hope th4t this coming up event will bring us closer, r4ther th4n further. We will need 4s m4ny Qu4dr4nt p4irings 4s we c4n get if we wish for our species to survive. I worry, for the vision I w4s shown reve4led her 4t 4 l4ter, unknown time. I s4w her being consoled by th4t filthy, vile lowblood girl, the one who h4s yet to notice my f4ke slumbering for when she visits. My love w4s shown to be d4m4ged b4dly, 4nd I will not st4nd by it if those s4v4ge lowbloods did th4t to her. I bet it will be the or4nge one th4t does it. Nothing else of gre4t note h4ppened th4t night, but I h4ve 4 feeling th4t the next time I write in this journ4l, it will not be while on P4storti4.

Until next time,  
L.M.

Finishing off his latest entry, he began to lazily flip through the previous pages. Memories of previous visions were shown to him. Ones pertained to himself and others he had yet to meet, showing them in situations that were both ideal, and some that proved a bit unpleasant. Some had already come to be proven true, and some of them had yet to come. He unlocked his phone and went to the Calendar app. His screen locked for a few moments before jerking back to life. Almost every day visible on the screen had upwards of 5 reminders at least.

His clawed finger tapped the current day, and a whole list of reminders appeared.

[3:30 AM: Wake up and get ready for painting  
8:45 AM: Make sure painter is fed to Snapping Lilly  
9-9:23 AM: Be trolled by KP.  
9:36 AM: Check on Lusus + Get dressed  
9:45 AM: Write down Prospit details  
9:58 AM: Check Calendar  
10:08 AM: Do some yoga or exercise [Film it for the fans [;;)]  
11:10 AM: Be pestered by LA about Commission]

And so on and so forth, he would say. Once he was finished checking his schedule for the day, he quickly looked at the clock. The jagged talon of time scratched its way towards 10:08. He closed his journal, stood up, adjusted his vest, and set off to leave the room. My, my, it appears this young troll is quite busy. He is far too busy for anyone, it seems. Let's leave him to it, then, as to avoid having to describe what his yoga or exercise entails. That is until he posts it on his Instascram account for all his "fans". Ugh. Honestly, what's up with this guy? Who does he think he is? Hopefully, we'll learn more about why he's like this. Speaking of finding out more about others, who was that troll he was trolling, and who was Dimuza?


End file.
